


to live would be an awfully big adventure

by unicyclehippo



Series: clexa texting au [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, clexa texting au, lots of good fun hopefully, these are snippets i've written some of them before and added some stuff, you're gonna love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:00:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicyclehippo/pseuds/unicyclehippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>send me more prompts for this i will get around to them - unicyclehippo on tumblr as well</p></blockquote>





	1. a confrontation, to begin

Prompt: I'm kinda sad that the texting AU is over because I loved it but I'm happy they're happy. Is it possible to know exactly what happened between Lexa and her parents?

* * *

 “Lexa. You’re pacing again.”

“Thank you, Anya, for pointing that out. I had no idea.” Arms folded flat across her stomach, Lexa paced the length of her kitchen then turned and paced back to the sink. Four and a half tiles across, eight tiles long, that was 36 tiles in total and there were three half tiles poking out from underneath the fridge so _really_ it was most likely six more under there which pulled the total up to, what? 42 tiles. But only 37 and a half visible tiles. “I’m sorry for snapping,” she said after a few minutes.

“Nah, you’re good.” Anya was lazing on Lexa’s bed, Netflix on pause. They were _supposed_ to have just paused to collect the dinner they had ordered, refill their water bottles, and return to the binge session but Lexa had decided ‘since they were pausing already’ she should go and get the mail.

Which led to this shit show.

“What do I do?”

“It’s only been like, two months. You could probably go another…” Anya frowned thoughtfully, eyes glazing over dreamily, for so long that Lexa grew impatient.

She came to a stop. Her arms tightened around her stomach. “I could go another what, Anya?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just zoned out thinking about how awesome it would be to never ever talk to our parents again. _Amazing._ Anyway, I was gonna say you could probably go an easy six months before you should feel even a smidgen like you might go to another one of those crappy family dinners and even then,” Anya slurped obnoxiously at her straw, knowing full well the sound set Lexa’s teeth on edge. “You don’t have to go.” She picked up the invitation again and turned it over. “Gross. Fancy ass paper. Cordially invited my ass. Who does she think she is anyway?”

“Our mother.”

“Oh yeah.” Anya grimaced. “Gross.” She tossed the slip of paper to the ground. “Good riddance.” She wouldn’t have regretted that at all, throwing it to the ground, only Lexa…

Lexa hurried over to pick it up. She traced her fingers over the edges, over the embossed lettering. To check there was no damage, perhaps, or just because there was something in her that rebelled still against seeing their parents disrespected. She hadn’t been free of their parents for as long as Anya had, barely at all really, and she still felt their hooks in her skin. That one, obligation. That one, familial love. That one, respect. That one, deeper, fear. That one, _wanting_. Wanting to be noticed, wanting to be listened to, wanting to be _Lexa_ and not the good perfect daughter.

Anya felt a twinge in her chest. It was a whole mixed bag of emotions, happy and sad, but mostly just filled her with a quiet resolute love for her little sister. Lexa had defended her at that dinner. “You are important,” she had said, and Anya loved her for it. More so, because she knew exactly how hard it had to have been for Lexa to stand up to their parents. For Lexa, it would have been the only option, the only _right_ option, and therefore not hard at all. Anya knew it was simultaneously the hardest thing in the world.

“The invitation is kind of over the top,” Lexa said, looking at the slip of paper. _You are cordially invited to dinner_. Her whole body itched. Cordially invited. Who was she, someone from one of their clubs who barely made the cut? A pity invite to fill that last lonely seat at that exorbitantly large dinner table of theirs?

She pressed the card onto the kitchen counter.

She even managed to ignore it for a few moments before she huffed, snatched it up again and made her way over to her desk. A roughly opened drawer later, she was tucking it into her day planner and closing the drawer firmly once more. Out of sight, out of mind, right? She could deal with it later.

She could feel Anya watching her and she was done, _done_ , worrying about all of that so she moved back to the bed and flopped down next to her.

“I’m still furious with them,” she grumbled, angry and hurt and a teeny bit confused, into her pillow. Anya slung an arm around her shoulders.

“I know, bug,” Anya said, voice filled with no small amount of pride. “You know, I replay that scene over and over again in my head when I can’t sleep.” That was true. “You were amazing. Incredible. My _hero_ ,” she teased, and Lexa huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Shut up.”

“ _Do you not know what that means, mother?”_ Anya mimicked, pitching her voice a little higher. “ _Sniping means to make petty or sly comments_. Jesus,” she laughed, stealing her arm back to wipe at fake tears. “That was _such_ a you thing to do.”

“Shut up, Anya.” Lexa pulled the pillow over her head. It had the dual effect of muffling her sisters voice as well as hiding her smile.

“I mean, totally badass. But you couldn’t have done it in a more formal way if you had tried. Wait.” Anya pursed her lips. “Eh, I take that back. You could have finished by banging a little gavel on the dinner table. But other than that, you couldn’t have been more formal about ripping mother a new one.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Thanks.” Anya waited a moment. “Not that I don’t appreciate all your teenage angst over this invitation, but you left our dinner on the side and it’s getting cold.”

“So go get it.”

“Uh, no? You’re the hostess. You get it.”

“Age before beauty.”

“Please, we _both_ know I’m both. Get me my dinner or I’m putting on a thriller instead of your boring ass walking with whatever.”

Lexa threw herself off the bed, stomped all the way into the kitchen. “It’s Walking with Dinosaurs and you _know_ that, Anya,” she muttered. Anya did know that. But leaving it hanging like that pretty much ensured that Lexa would correct her.

* * *

It was five whole days later and Lexa had done very well in forgetting that her parents had tried to contact her at all.

The card had stayed in her day planner – she had ignored it very successfully in favour of spending two very long study sessions with Clarke. And a few actual study sessions with some of her classmates.

She hadn’t even sent her parents an _email_ – which, oh god, even the thought of that made her want to cringe and laugh because wow her parents would think that the height of rudeness and now that she thought of it, it was rather tempting – and though ignoring the invitation made her stomach twist a little with worry, mostly she was glad to ignore it and think nothing of them.

And then she was walking from class with some of her friends.

A new coffee place had opened up across campus. It was sure to do excellent business, given the thousands of students who needed a little pick-me-up before, during and/or after class. Lexa really loved the façade of the café – it was small but not too small, the wood-smoked pizza always smelled _amazing_ , and the line for the coffee had been long every time she walked past. She’d also heard that they made lovely sandwiches and so she had approached a few of the girls in her class and asked if they would like to have a late lunch with her.

She texted Octavia and Clarke to confirm. They had dragged her into a group chat and her phone had been buzzing for the last ten minutes with _did they agree? we’ll come & join u if they didn’t want to have lunch_ and variations thereof. She sent off a few thumbs up and laughed when Octavia sent back every single food emoticon she had on her phone and Clarke sent back several hearts. They were going to start squabbling, Lexa knew, so she put her phone on Do Not Disturb and picked up her pace. She was so close to catching up with her friends, when,

“Alexandria, dear, that shirt does not flatter you at _all_.”

She froze, arms clutching tight around the books she was carrying.

“Lexa? Are you coming?”

She waved them away with a tense smile. She hoped that her smile said everything – that is, go on without me, I’ll be there in a minute, everything is okay – because none of that was true and she didn’t want to actually say it out aloud.

A few of them waited at the next pillar over. The relief at seeing that felt cool and soothing, even as the back of her neck started to prickle with nervous heat.

“Mother. Hello.”

“Hello, dear.” She looked impeccable as always, if a touch overdressed for the university. “I’m here to pick you up,” she said because Lexa was just looking at her. When the look turned to confusion, she sighed and continued. “For dinner. For the dinner invitation, may I add, that you rather rudely never responded to.”

“You may not,” Lexa said, surprising both of them. “After what happened at our last dinner, you should be grateful that I don’t return all your correspondence unopened and that your emails don’t go straight to my junk inbox.”

“Alexandria!” Her mother glanced around. She too saw Lexa’s friends loitering and so she swallowed whatever retort she had and pressed her lips together firmly. “This isn’t something to be discussed in public. Please, we would like to spend some time with you. We would like to know how you are.”

“You could call.”

“That is a two way street, Alexandria,” she said sharply, and Lexa bowed her head. “Say goodbye to your friends and come join us for dinner.”

Lexa found herself turning and walking to her friends. She debated just…walking, just continuing on and ignoring her mother completely. But she didn’t.

“Is everything okay? Who is that?” One of the girls from class stepped in close, laid a careful hand on Lexa’s elbow. She stared over Lexa’s shoulder at her mother, eyes narrowed and proverbial hackles raised.

“My mother.”

“Ah shit.”

“You don’t have to go with her,” they informed her, and Lexa shrugged a shoulder.

“It’s fine. I’ll text my sister on the way.”

 “Text her now. We’ll hold her off until Anya gets here by talking about social justice issues and watching her squirm. She seems like one of _those_ people.”

“As tempting as that is,” Lexa said, and she needed to finish the conversation soon because her lips felt like they were going numb, “I think I’m just going to go with her. It’s just dinner,” she said, and she didn’t really believe it because it was just going to be dinner but it was going to be seven digs about the way she dressed, the way she wore her hair, the company she kept, what grades she was getting, and by the end of it Lexa was going to feel so so _so_ small and too big at the same time and she was already starting.

The edges of her books were digging into the soft flesh of her arms, she was gripping them so tight. Her fingers tingled.

“Hey, if you need a get out of jail free card, I actually legit need some help for this exam so text me and I’ll pay for an Uber to get you or something. But if that doesn’t end up happening, also don’t worry, I’ll just get some coffee and bug the professor until he emails me that study list he promised me three weeks ago.” Her classmate patted Lexa’s shoulder. “I’ll email you a copy when I get it.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you. If I can’t make it I will email you my notes anyway.”

“Sweet!”

Lexa sent off a quick text to Anya and Clarke, knowing that once she got in the car she likely would have to put her phone away.

They walked in tense silence to the car – Lexa’s mother didn’t want to push anything, she did want her daughter to come to dinner and she didn’t want to make a scene and Lexa, Lexa had her phone in her hand and glanced down every few moments to see if her people had replied.

They still hadn’t by the time Lexa reached the car.

“Put that thing away, Lexa. You know how I feel about that. What’s wrong with having a conversation with someone face to face, hmm?” She shook her head despairingly. “Put it away,” she repeated and Lexa slowly reached back to the back seat and slipped it into the front pocket of her bag. She caught her hands in her lap and tried to slow her breathing. It was stupid to get so worked up over it. Her mother wasn’t going to hurt her. She didn’t want to go but she would survive – calm down, you’re being stupid, she told herself, calm down.

Her shaking hands didn’t listen.

“You know, I read another article about the dangers of these devices. Cancer reports have gone way up. Young men and women are getting more brain tumours than doctors have ever reported seeing.” Lexa nodded. “I don’t want to see that phone in your pocket anymore, dear. Put it in your bag. Or keep it in your room. No need to shackle yourself to that – _immerse_ yourself in life, Lexa. And make sure to pay attention in class.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Good. Your friends seem…nice,” her mother said a little while later. “A touch underdressed for an academic setting, perhaps, but nice.”

Lexa zoned out a touch, thinking about her phone. It was too far away. What if Anya replied and she got worried when Lexa didn’t return her call? Or message? Or Clarke? God, Clarke. She wanted her here now, she always managed to calm her down easily and if she couldn’t, well, it was still really nice to sit with her.

Lexa ran her fingers carefully over her seatbelt, checked and double checked that it was tight and flush across her check and pelvis and definitely firmly locked in place.

“Alexandria, stop fidgeting. And please, look at me when I’m talking.”

 “You’re driving. What does it matter?”

“It’s good manners, Alexandria, and I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“Yes, mother. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now,” she glanced away from the road quickly to make sure that Lexa was looking at her. She gave her a small smile. “I’m sorry. What a poor way to start off. You look lovely.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Perhaps not the shirt, but it’s nice to see that you look healthy and well-rested.” Lexa sighed. Half a compliment was still a compliment. Probably. “It’s a bit of a drive out to the house. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about your classes?”

She looked genuinely interested, and Lexa licked her lips, sat up a little straighter.

“Alright. I’m taking some really interesting Literature courses this semester and,”

“And Business, isn’t that right? You know Carol, Dr. Crinks’ wife, her son is in Business as well. First year, though.” Lexa nodded. “He’s a bright boy. Would you like me to get his number for you? Carol would be delighted.”

“No thank you. I’m quite busy.” _And quite gay._

“Well I’ll get it anyway, no need to be rude and your schedule might open up soon. You thought you’d be too busy to come to dinner tonight and look,” she gestured at Lexa, “here you are.”

 _Because you made me,_ sat heavy on her tongue. She just turned to look out the window.

The sights became increasingly familiar – it wasn’t a hugely long drive, twenty, twenty-five minutes, but her throat felt tight and solid and she started to fear that today, this time, she would actually forget how to breathe.

There was the playground she broke her arm on.

There was the field.

And there, the row of trees she had played hide and seek in with Anya.

And there, the long road home, always punctuated by dragging feet and, Lexa caught herself doing it even now, checking her clothes for any stains or rips or wrinkles.

* * *

“Oh _shit,_ ” Clarke said out aloud.

“Babe, no phones at the dinner table.”

“Okay, first of all, we’re sitting on the couch and eating cereal at three-thirty, I hardly think this counts as dinner or the dinner table.” Octavia shrugged, muttered something about _it’s the thought that counts_ , and Lincoln rubbed her back soothingly. “And second, Lexa’s been kidnapped by her mum, we’ve got to go get her.”

“Oh _shit_ ,” Octavia repeated. “Okay, yeah. Wait – do I have time to get changed into something more intimidating?” She winced. “I know how that sounds and I totally get that this is serious and we have to go get her but seriously.” She waved down at her Spiderman boxers and Clarke nodded.

“Fine. But make it quick.”

 “Two minutes!”

The promised two minutes later, Octavia flung herself into the passenger seat. She looked back at Lincoln, slightly hunched in the back seat so his head was just brushing the roof instead of pressed right up against it, and tried not to laugh. “Sorry, babe.” She rolled her seat forward a few inches so he could stretch his legs and sink down a little further.

 Clarke groaned loudly when they beamed at one another and Lincoln reached forward to link hands with his girlfriend.

“Ugh. Be gross somewhere else, you two.”

“Please, like you can talk. The second we get Lexa in the car you’re gonna be all, _I love you so much, I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner, you look so pretty your eyes are like a forest in the moonlight your skin is the softest thing in the world, I want to draw you forever you’re an angel_ , blah blah blah.”

Clarke frowned.

“While true, I resent your tone.” She turned on the car. “O, seatbelt?”

“It’s on.”

“Good. Lincoln?”

“Yes, Clarke, mine’s on too.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

* * *

“I think I have a playlist for this,” Octavia said, connecting her phone to the car music system. “Okay, let’s see. I’ve got ‘yas queen’, ‘YAS Queen’, ‘beATS’, ‘slow sad shit’, ‘sexy times’, ‘road trip 2014’, ‘party mix Clarke 20’, ‘sexy times bonanza’, ‘dance dance dance’, ‘gym sounds’, ‘sexy times hot & heavy’, and yes!” Octavia cheered, clicking on a playlist. “Here we go, bitches, ‘music to use if we ever have to save someone’.”

“Seriously?”

“Nah. I just put on YAS Queen.”

“Nice.”

* * *

“Did I miss the turn?” Clarke sighed and pulled over. “Lincoln, can you look up Lexa’s address on google maps for me because _someone_ is the world’s worst navigator.” She threw Octavia a fake glare and laughed when she flipped up her middle finger. “Rude.”

“No, you’re rude. You _know_ that I get carsick, Clarke, I can’t look at the screen for that long. Do you want me to throw up in your car?”

“No.”

“No. That’s right.” Octavia sat up straight, glanced in the rear view mirror to Lincoln who was waiting patiently. “What did you get, babe?”

“We’re two streets away. You did miss that turn.”

“Thank you, Lincoln,” Clarke and Octavia chorused.

“He’s the best of all of us,” Clarke said to Octavia.”

“I know.”

“I know that also,” Lincoln agreed.

They weren’t as relaxed as they pretended. If they weren’t relaxed, if they weren’t treating this just like any other casual picking up a friend, then Clarke’s stomach would be churning, she would feel her worry start in her grinding jaw and sit tight, tightening in her shoulders. Octavia’s wrist would ache in that small healed bump as she clenched her hands a little too tight in her lap. Lincoln’s frown would cut his forehead clean in half, the itching just below his skin and in his hands would be too much to ignore and the car would be far, far too small for him.

The last of the jokes and smiles died away as Clarke pulled into the driveway.

Lexa must have been standing just inside the front door, because when she saw them the door opened and she stepped out, arms folded over her stomach. Her face so set so carefully, so sternly, she had to be hurt or furious. Maybe both. Clarke didn’t even turn the car off, she just left it running as she threw herself out of the car and sprinted up the drive.

Lexa’s shoulders slumped in relief when she turned and saw her girlfriend running – _running_ – to her. And just because, _exactly_ because, she had asked her to.  

“Clarke,” she sighed, and she unfolded one hand to reach over, graze her shaking fingers lightly over the back of Clarke’s hand that hesitated a short distance away from her. She knew Lexa well enough by now to know that she didn’t want to be touched right now so she just turned so she was face on and bent a little at the knees, ducking down to catch Lexa’s gaze.

“You alright?”

Lexa couldn’t quite talk, so she just nodded.

Clarke licked her lips, ignored the intent stares from the front door. “Lincoln and O came as well, they’re in the car.” Clarke glanced over her shoulder and saw the pair coming up the street. God, she loved her friends. She looked back at Lexa, who was waving at O and Lincoln a small, careful wave. When Lexa looked at her, Clarke asked, “Do you have a bag?”

“It’s inside,” Lexa managed, and Clarke just nodded and smiled at her and stepped around her so that she was blocking Lexa’s parents line of sight. She waited until Octavia and Lincoln reached them, placed Lincoln where she had stood so the _y really_ couldn’t see Lexa, and turned and headed right for the front door.

“Hey babe, sorry, we would’ve been here sooner but I had to put on some pants,” she heard Octavia say and Clarke faltered for a moment when Lexa laughed quietly. There was a warm feeling filling every part of her chest, not a sweet soft kind of love that Clarke experienced every day but intense, because Octavia loved Lexa too, and Clarke loved that, she loved it so much, she loved that Octavia would take the time to make her laugh – no, that her first instinct would be to make her laugh, to help her, to make sure that Lexa was happy, to let her know that she was _loved_. Clarke gripped onto every piece of anger, every uncomfortable squirm in her stomach when she saw Lexa trying so hard to be perfect, to be good, and she thought especially about those neat little lines on Lexa’s hip and she let her anger take over her face as she stepped up to the door, as she stepped between Lexa’s parents and walked in and past them without a word.

The house was big. And loud. Clarke’s steps echoed, and her stomach clenched again as she thought about a small Lexa learning how to walk very, very quietly.

“Sir, please step back,” was what Clarke heard as she came to the door again. She started to run. “Lexa already said she didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I don’t know who you think you are but you should get out of the way. You’re trespassing on my property and I will call the police.”

“Joseph, _no_.”

That was Lexa’s mother, a hand on her husbands arm.

Clarke walked quickly back to Lexa, handed Octavia the bag. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Oh no you don’t, Alexandria.”

Lexa sucked in a breath. “It’s Lexa,” she said quietly.

“What was that?”

Lexa frowned at Lincoln’s back for a short while before she stepped up to him and around. She looked up at him when she gripped the back of his shirt tightly, and he nodded, it was fine. She just…she desperately needed something to hold on to and he was strong and solid and warm and he had always been kind and effortlessly, purposefully gentle with everyone and Lexa clung to him a little more tightly. Clarke was still a few steps away, arms crossed, staring down the parents.

“It’s Lexa,” she repeated, and she brought her eyes up from the ground with a little effort. “My name. I don’t like Alexandria. I’ve told you that before.”

“Whether you like it or not, it’s your name and we gave it to you.”

“Oh Joseph, stop it,” Lexa’s mother said. “Lexa,” she said, and she paused for a moment before continuing. “Why are you leaving? Who are these people? I don’t understand."

Clarke snorted. "How can you possibly be confused by this? It's like, super obvious what's happening."

"Clarke." 

Clarke looked back at Lexa, who shook her head slightly. Octavia jerked her head and Clarke moved over to join her. "Lexa's got this, let her do it," Octavia murmured. "She's  _got_ this." She slipped Lexa's backpack on and reached over to hold Clarke's hand, squeezed it reassuringly. "She's got this."

"Well," Lexa said, thoughtful and solemn and kind of ruthlessly careful in what she chose to say. "Mother, these are my friends Octavia and Lincoln." She paused for a moment and Clarke held tighter to Octavia's hand. Was she going to say it? Lexa had never talked about coming out to her parents before, surely she wasn't going to, "And this is my girlfriend, Clarke, with whom I have regular and wonderful lesbian sex." 

Lexa's parents looked like they were about to pass out. Her father turned around and put his hand to his forehead like he was in actual physical pain. 

Lexa turned to Clarke. "I think it's time to go now," she said, and her mother reached out to grab her, saying something like  _you can't just say something like that_ or  _what about dinner_ or something. Clarke couldn't really hear anything - the blood was pounding heavy in her ears she was so angry. 

"Let her go. Now."

Later, Octavia would tell her that she was very hot when she was angry. Incredibly hot. Spine-tinglingly hot. An actual god-sent terrifying angel. And her hair looked amazing, which was always a good touch. 

"Why are you saying this, Lexa? Is this because of what happened with Anya?"

"No."

"I know you love your sister and perhaps I handled that wrong, but there is no need to hurt us like this in front of, in front of strangers. It's cruel, Lexa, and-"

"This has nothing to do with you," Lexa interrupted. "Absolutely nothing. And it had nothing to do with you when I met Clarke, or when I fell in love with her. I didn't think once about you. It had and has, every day, everything to do with the way she makes me feel, which is very happy." She was finding it very hard to get the words out, everything in her was telling her that those were not things that she could say to her parents and get away with it, those were not things that she was allowed to talk about with them. 

"Well."

"I feel good when I am with her, and with my friends," Lexa said very quietly, and she lifted her chin stubbornly and the implication, the suggestion that it was novel, it was magical and wonderful and unexpected and  _new_ to feel good, was heard. 

Her father disappeared inside the house without looking at his daughter. Lexa's mother stayed outside. 

"Well," she said again, and she reached up to smooth a hand over her hair, tucked it once and twice behind her ears. She flattened her hands against her stomach and pursed her lips. "All I have ever wanted is for you to be happy, Lexa," she said finally.

Clarke had to hold Octavia back from starting an actual fight, but she couldn't and wouldn't stop her from announcing that Lexa's mother "had a funny way of showing it". 

"I apologise," Lexa's mother continued, and she sounded breathless and faint. "For making you feel like you couldn't share this. Clarke, was it?" Clarke nodded. "Please drive safely. I would appreciate it if you would text me that you arrived home safely, Lexa."

"I will."

"Very good. Do let me know if you need anything to help with your studies." The phrases were robotic and flat, Clarke was pretty sure that she was just spouting off what she would ordinarily say at the end of a get together. "Excuse me," she said, very softly, and she turned and walked inside the house.

Lexa was absolutely fine. She turned to Clarke and held out her hand and led them all to the car, still running. She was fine when they drove home, fine as they stopped for a few minutes to fill up on petrol, fine all the way through until after dinner. They sat in the living room, and it was small and cosy and warm and Lexa was exhausted and so, so fine that her cheeks hurt from holding her smile.

"So, I think my favourite part of this afternoon was when Lincoln almost burst his shirt buttons when he crossed his arms." Octavia reclined in comfort, head in Clarke's lap, feet in Lexa's lap. "God, he's so hot."

"Thank you, babe," Lincoln said from the kitchen. "You looked hot as well. ."

"You're so sweet. But I changed my mind, I loved it when Lexa used the phrase regular lesbian sex."

"Regular and  _wonderful_ lesbian sex, thank you very much." Clarke tapped Octavia's forehead. "Regular and _wonderful_." _  
_

"I did say that." Lexa smiled. "Oh god, I did say that. I need to call Anya." Octavia lifted her feet automatically, swinging them off to the side so that Lexa could get out. "Excellent core strength, Octavia."

"Thank you!"

When Lexa hadn't returned for twenty minutes, Octavia faked a yawn. "Well, time for me and Lincoln to go to my room and cuddle and not make a sound or come out until tomorrow to give you and Lexa some space. Unless," she added, hopping up, "unless you need us, in which case totally text us."

"Thanks, babe." Clarke hugged both of them before she went to her room. Lexa was sitting on the bed, phone gripped tightly in her hand. Staring down at it. "Hey. What did Anya say?"

Lexa looked up slowly. "Oh. I haven't called her yet."

"Do you want to do that now?"

"Do you mind?"

"Nah. I'm going to get changed for bed though, is that okay? I'll stick to this side of the room so you have all that side to pace, I know you like pacing as you talk."

"How generous of you."

"I aim to please. And not just with niceties, if you know what I mean."

It took Lexa a moment to get the innuendo, and then she rolled her eyes and laughed. "Funny, Clarke." 

"Thanks." She tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation. Not that Lexa would really mind - it was just  _yes I'm fine, sorry I didn't call earlier, Clarke came to get me, no you're absolutely fine it's okay, I love you too_ et cetera, et cetera. But Clarke wanted to give her the space to have an open conversation, so she mindlessly rifled in her closet until Lexa was done.

"You can stop shuffling, Clarke, I'm done."

"Excuse me, this is a very precise bed time ritual."

"Most of the time you take off your pants and say 'that's enough' and jump into bed," Lexa pointed out and Clarke beamed at her. 

"I love how well you know me." She shucked her pants and jumped onto the bed, patted the space next to her. "Come on, let's sleep. Everything will feel better after a solid fourteen hours."

"Eight."

"Twelve."

"Nine."

"Deal. On one condition - you have to spend an additional lazy half an hour with me in bed, excluding any sexual activity that might crop up." Lexa pretended to think about it before she shook Clarke's hand. "Deal, no take backs!"

 

 


	2. in which clarke is vain for good reason

The last time Lexa had voluntarily walked into the house, Anya had been the one next to her. Now it was Clarke.

They were similar in some ways. In others, they were vastly different.

Anya had always been sharp and smart, her leather jacket always smelled faintly of cigarettes but mostly just like her, heavy and warm and soft and faintly of her flatmates shampoo. Lexa loved her sister very much, but honestly? The thought of Anya accompanying her tonight had been too much, had made Lexa feel sick to her stomach. Anya  _always_  stood next to her like she was ready to be—like she  _was_ —a shield or weapon or something of the sort. Lexa's protection. And that was reassuring in some ways, but very sad in others, so when Anya had told her the day before that she wasn't coming, when she had suggested that Lexa take Clarke instead because of course there was no way that she would suggest Lexa go alone, Lexa was relieved. There was just no way that Anya could come to the house and not be that person. Knowing that she would be safe and happy and fully real and present with her small group of friends at home, all of whom Anya had worked so hard and well and happily to gather and look after, Lexa was happy. It was past time Anya felt comfortable allowing herself to come first. 

So Lexa took her up on her suggestion and now Clarke was standing next to her. 

It's different with her, and not just because Lexa could kiss her. Clarke is softer than Anya. She's similar, in some ways, to her sister - Clarke and Anya both harbour the same unreserved disgust toward Lexa's parents, Lexa had wrapped up bruised and tender knuckles for both of them, she had held Clarke through sad, bad days that reminded her achingly and softly of all the hurt her sister still carried, and Clarke did look  _incredible_  in leather also. But at the core of it, Clarke wasn’t Anya, she wasn’t going to hurt like Anya did every time she came back to this house, Clarke was just a girl standing next to her who loved her and who was waiting for her to be ready to go in. And if she wasn’t, Clarke would go back to the car with her and they would go home and that would be that.

Twelve and a half minutes after the dinner party began, Lexa was ready. She reached over to close the distance between them, wrapped her fingers around Clarke's. 

"Jesus," she said. "Your hands are really cold, Lexa."

"Sorry." Lexa sound utterly insincere, just as Clarke sounded disinterested in her own words. She'd said them dozens of times before and barely meant them now. Their intent, Lexa knew, was to get her to relax.

She rang the doorbell. 

It chimed for five long seconds. In a low voice, Clarke said, "We can still run." Lexa laughed, but she didn't move. 

She was still smiling at Clarke's comment when the door opened, which Lexa hated because the smile wasn't for her mother. But still. She kept it there in place and if it looked a little forced, well, her mother didn't say anything about it. 

"Good evening, mother. The house looks lovely."

It did, actually. There were small lights illuminating the path and lights smaller still adorning the trees, and it made them feel a little like they had stepped into a fairy tale. It was beautifully and carefully done, which made Lexa uncomfortable. The house _was_ lovely, and it was difficult to make the way she felt about the house match up with the way it looked.

Lexa ignored the loveliness and let herself imagine how angry Raven would be if she were here. The lawn was impeccable and green, and she could hear her best friend muttering about lawn culture – she hated it, Australia was just barely out of a drought and it was elitist and stupid and that water could be put to better use, she would say, but more than she hated lawns she loved the little garden in the front of her parents home and the little irrigation system she had designed and built for it all by herself – and Lexa smiled at the thought. She wiped it away quickly though, that small warm feeling, that happy smile wasn’t for her mother at all.

“Thank you, Alexa- Lexa.” Lexa’s mother almost said her full name, but she stopped herself just in time. That correction set off a little flutter of hope and Lexa tucked that away to overthink at some later point. For now, she lifted her chin just a little and waited, because her mother was looking over her with those sharp, searching eyes and if she insulted her purposefully or otherwise, Lexa was going to leave.

If she found a flaw, she said nothing about it.

“You look lovely, Lexa. That blouse is very nice, the colour suits your eyes well.”

Lexa smoothed it down. It was an instant reaction that she tamed almost as quickly, pushing one hand down to her side and returning the other to link with Clarke's. Her mother watched the movement, then turned to Clarke.

"Hello, Clarke."

"Mrs Woods."

Clarke hated her mother so obviously and it made Lexa uncomfortable - not because of the hatred, Clarke was protective, she didn't like her mother, she didn't  _trust_ her to be around Lexa and not hurt her, and Lexa understood that. It was the fact that Clarke made no secret of it that Lexa was still trying to get a handle on. She almost wanted to step forward and smooth things over between them but she didn’t. Her mother could handle herself just fine. And she would be lying if she didn’t, at least in part, enjoy Clarke’s stalwart and furious support of her.

"How nice that you could join us," Lexa's mother said finally, and stepped aside. "Everyone is in the dining room, Lexa. Clarke, please feel free to mingle with the guests."

"Thanks."

There was another car pulling up in the driveway as they stepped inside, so her mother would stay to greet them. They had a little time, then, so Lexa dawdled on her way to the dining room. 

"She didn't know I was coming, did she?"

Clarke didn't bother to hide her smile, which eased Lexa's worry more than Clarke could know. She was worried that Clarke would hate being a surprise - Clarke wasn't a weapon or, or, or some  _tool_  to be used about her parents, that wasn't Lexa's intention at all. She had just wanted her to come. 

"She may not have extended an invitation," Lexa admitted, and there was no one nearby so she felt comfortable sliding her fingers up to curl around Clarke's wrist and she tugged her gently off the path and around to the back of the staircase where there was a small alcove. It was hidden from the entryway and from the door of the dining room by the body of the stairs, so they were safe. 

Lexa could see that look in Clarke's eyes, the little quirk of her lips into a smug smirk that she adored so much - but would never admit because, god, Clarke would be  _so_  smug about that, she was such an ass sometimes - and Lexa knew that Clarke wanted to perform any number of very inappropriate acts. She was tempted. Clarke is beautiful and fun and Lexa loves her, but then the mood was gone completely because she grew up there, and her parents were somewhere nearby, and none of that was arousing at all. 

Besides, there was something more important that Lexa wanted to discuss. Lexa's parents  _would_  try at some point to put Clarke on the spot and the idea made her breathing fall out of rhythm and she tugged on her lip with her teeth, worrying at the little scrape she had made earlier in the day.  Clarke would be fine - she is bright and entrancing and intelligent and vibrate and Lexa knew that she would be absolutely fine, but there were things to be said regardless. 

"I wanted to bring you with me," she said. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that you were not invited. I didn't want you to be offended or hurt by it, so I spoke with Anya and we organised this." Anya had told their parents that she would be attending, which was a huge lie. Lexa was fairly sure they knew Anya was lying but it didn't matter - they would save her a seat anyway. It was the right thing to do. "There's a seat for you, there will be. Anya's seat is yours. You're very welcome here, Clarke." Lexa paused, then added, "I want you here," because she wasn't so certain that her parents would be welcoming at all. 

Her palms were getting a little clammy and she was frowning hard - she didn't want Clarke to second guess her safety or her place. She did have a place there, with Lexa, and Lexa wasn't going to tolerate anyone being less than civil to her girlfriend. She wanted Clarke to know that. 

"Hey," Clarke said, in a voice that was soothing without trying to be soothing. "I'm not uncomfortable. It's alright. I would do pretty much anything to see your parents squirm anyway, including making them find an extra seat for me. They won't want to be unforgivably rude," she said, faking a ridiculously posh tone, and it made Lexa smile.

Clarke is funny and Lexa loves her. But she can't help feeling a little sad, because she still loved her parents. Very much. And it was hard, because she was pretty sure that they had always cared more about what she was supposed to be than what she actually was, about what was expected than what she wanted. 

Lexa felt very small again, in that very big house. 

Clarke had to see it. She was getting very good at seeing when Lexa was feeling like that. She didn't touch her, no, she just changed her pose just  _so_  and suddenly Lexa wasn't thinking about herself at all. 

Clarke had all of her attention. 

She was  _beautiful_.

"One good thing about tonight," Clarke said lightly. "I get to dress up all pretty for you."

All of Lexa's breath comes out at once, which she's pretty sure isn't healthy. She says, as sincerely as she possibly can, and in a tone that is close to reverence, "You look very pretty tonight, Clarke." 

Lexa stepped in closer. As a result, Clarke was pressed in deeper into the alcove and they were more or less hidden entirely. Lexa placed her hands very gently on Clarke's hips - she was wearing a lovely dress and Lexa didn't want to wrinkle it - and when Lexa leaned in, she paused and raised her eyebrows in a question.

Clarke nodded. Eagerly. 

Both of them kept their hands to themselves, mostly, when Lexa finally kissed her softly. Clarke had put a lot of effort into her appearance, equal parts due to vanity and spite, which is why Lexa didn't touch her. Clarke's hands didn't stray because she would want to take it further and while Lexa loved having sex with her - and it was good, safe sex and it was fun and lovely, and often funny - it was absolutely neither the time nor the place. Her fingers squeezed a little on Clarke's hips at the thought and Clarke gasped. The kiss turned out a little deeper, a little more intense than Lexa had planned. But that was alright. 

"You want to leave already, don't you?"

"Very much."

"When can we leave without being rude?" Lexa knew what Clarke was really asking: when can we leave according to  _your_  standards? When will  _you_  be comfortable leaving? She thought about it very carefully. 

"After dinner."

"The second those plates are cleared then," Clarke promised, kissing her girlfriend's cheek, "we are out of here."

Lexa closed her eyes. Enjoyed the feeling of the kiss, of Clarke's attention on her. Heat rushed to her cheeks, the back of her neck, and she stepped back and looked away for a moment. Then she nodded and lifted a hand to her cheek. "Did you leave any lipstick on me?"

"Yes."

Lexa swiped at it, checked her fingers for any sign of the colour but it hadn't come off on her skin. "Did I get it?" She wondered if she had time to fix it before they would be missed - they were likely already noticeably late so she doubted it. She hoped it would come off. She had some wet wipes in her purse and she clicked it open to pull them out. "Where's the mark?" she asked Clarke. "I'll just dab at it."

"Here, I’ll get it." Clarke took the packet out of her hand and then just tucked it back in her purse, kissing her cheek again. When Lexa realised Clarke was just teasing her, her shoulders dropped a little in relief. 

"Clarke," Lexa whined a little. She touched her cheek where Clarke had just kissed and smiled a little. She couldn't help it. But then, "Okay, but did  _that_  one leave a mark though?"

Clarke laughed and shook her head no. "No, you're okay. I have this awesome no-stick, no-smudge lipstick. Perfect for kissing all night long." She winked. "We can test it out later."

She sauntered away and it took Lexa a full extra minute to follow her, because she had asked once – laughingly – if it would be alright to objectify her, and Clarke had told her seriously that she would be insulted if she didn’t, from time to time, so Lexa lingered and took some time to stare at her girlfriend as she left. She really did look amazing in her dress and Lexa didn’t feel comfortable with openly staring at Clarke surrounded by her parents, and her parents friends so she took the opportunity as it presented itself.

Then her knees weakened, because Clarke had just promised her that she could test out the lipstick with her later and Lexa had a few ideas about that and Clarke was really, really pretty and she was there because Lexa had asked her to be and Lexa sighed happily.

She caught up with Clarke and smiled and that was easy and light and good. But then they walked into the dining room and there were a lot of unfamiliar faces and the reminder of the evening ahead stretched out, painfully long. 

She grazed her fingers against Clarke's. "Is it wrong that I just want to go into the kitchen and talk to Grace?"

"No, that's okay. Go for it."

"Would you like to come with me?"

Clarke looked over her, properly. She reached out and stilled Lexa's fingers, which were plucking a little at her cuffs and then she looked at her lips for a moment, sternly though, letting Lexa know that she should stop biting at it. "I'm alright here," she promised, and she undid the buttons on Lexa's cuffs and helps her roll the sleeves. "Perfect."

"Are you sure that you want to stay out here?"

"Yes Lexa, I promise. I know a few of them." She smiled. "Take your time."

* * *

Lexa did take her time. 

Grace was happy for her help, though she refused to let her help chop anything smelly or touch anything that might stain her skin, or anything with flour because that would get on her black pants. Basically, she handed Lexa a bowl of nuts and shooed her to the side and actually refused her help entirely. But she was happy for Lexa's company. 

Lexa had been in there for some time when she heard a chorus of "Clarke!"s from outside. Everyone sounded very pleased to see her, and Lexa smiled. "Clarke, how nice to see you again. What are you doing here?"

"Lexa invited me," Lexa heard next, and she had heard Clarke say her name many times but each time sounded better than the last. "The Woods's daughter?" she continued. She paused - Lexa heard the pause, or maybe she imagined it, but she knew that Clarke was holding back a little. They had talked about it for a long time before tonight. Lexa was out, as was Clarke, but neither of them were interested in a night of disapproving looks from Lexa's parents so unless they were explicitly asked, they weren't going to say that they were dating.

Kissing was out of the question, unfortunately. (They had already broken that rule a little and Lexa so didn't care, it was worth it.) Hand holding was going to be necessary. 

"Oh, are you friends from university?"

"We met at uni, yeah," Clarke said. Lexa could hear the effort it took not to say it. There was a small thrum of nerves that went through Lexa that made her hands shake, and she was a little disappointed in herself that she was relieved when Clarke just left it at that. 

"And how is your mother?" one of the doctors asked Clarke. 

"Busy, very busy." She said something else that Lexa didn't catch, the door to the kitchen opened and closed and she shifted a little so that a server could pass by without too much trouble, but then the man Clarke was speaking with was laughing loudly and Lexa knew that Clarke would be absolutely fine tonight.

She stopped eavesdropping, left Clarke to her 'schmoozing' - her term, and Octavia's - and made her way further into the kitchen, right to the back. There were desserts being hoarded in the freezer there. Lexa's parents never skimped on the catering, and the desserts were absolutely one of the main reasons that Lexa had agreed to come.

She talked quietly to Grace a little more and finally the woman laughed at Lexa and told her yes, she would put aside some desserts for her to take home. Lexa hesitated and she laughed again. 

"Your eyes have been sneaking over to them for many minutes now, Lexa. How many do you want?"

She pursed her lips. There was her and Clarke, of course. Then Octavia and Raven. Lincoln too, he would want one, he loved tasting new foods. Anya. That made six. "Six?" Lexa looked impossibly guilty as she immediately changed her mind to eight because they were amazing desserts and she wanted to take an extra one home for her and Clarke. "Eight?"

"Lexa." Grace said, and she clicked her tongue at her, coming to a decision. "I will send you home with ten." Lexa beamed at her and Grace shook her head. "Leave, trouble maker," she said with incredible fondness. "Go spend time with your girlfriend, or your mother will come looking."

The threat worked, and Lexa just stayed long enough to kiss Grace's cheek before she left.

* * *

Clarke was exceptional and wonderful and very talented with the guests.

Lexa had some skill – she had a gift for names and faces, and she really did enjoy being able to recall small details. Details were important and they made a difference. She liked the way that people would smile when they realised she remembered their wife’s name, or that their daughters birthday had just passed.

But Clarke was on some other level entirely.

Lexa knew that at least part of the reason she was so wonderfully charming was because she wanted to annoy Lexa’s parents, but that was a faint thought and it was well and truly swamped by Lexa’s continuous awe.

And want.

She made her way over to Clarke and took her hand. She said a sweet hello to the people Clarke was talking to, and then excused Clarke from the conversation. They both ignored Lexa’s parents as they walked past them and out of the dining room – Lexa nodded her understanding when one of the caterers mentioned that dinner would be served in five minutes – and there was no one watching when Lexa shooed Clarke into the bathroom with her so they could test Clarke’s no-smudge lipstick once more.

They separated hurriedly when Lexa’s two-minute timer beeped from its place next to the sink and Clarke fixed Lexa’s hair with her steady, lovely hands.

“Ready?”

Lexa shrugged. “It’ll be over soon.”

It wasn’t a yes, and Clarke wanted to tell her that they could stay a little longer or that they could leave right now if she wanted to, but then Lexa licked her lips and nodded firmly and swept out of the bathroom.

Clarke reapplied her lipstick and smoothed down her dress, winked at her reflection. No wonder Lexa couldn’t stay away, she thought. 

* * *

"Dr Martin, how's orthodontics treating you? Has anyone tried to bite you recently?"

"Not since I was removing your braces, my dear."

"Now there's a bold lie," Clarke laughed. "Mum was just telling me you came to work missing a finger."

"As great of a story that would be," he sighed, and held up his ten functional fingers. "Alas. I did get into a tussle with a seven year old though." He leaned in. "She won."

“It’s hard to be a doctor if you’re scared of children, Doc. Hey, what if you dose them with happy gas as soon as they come into the clinic?”

“I’ve suggested it. Apparently it’s ‘unethical’.”

Lexa looked up from her plate, tilted her head to the side. She turned and interrupted quietly. "You had braces?"

Clarke grimaced. "Yes. There are zero remaining photos." Lexa frowned and Clarke avoided her eyes. Then, all of a sudden, Lexa _laughed_.

Her parents looked up from their plates to stare at her – her father looked stern but her mother looked surprised – but Lexa noticed neither of them.

Clarke was clearly lying and Lexa’s smile was sweet and prompting and her fingers pressed down just a little on Clarke’s knee and all she really did was look at her and Clarke sighed her defeat. “Fine. Ask Octavia. She definitely saved some from the purposeful burning of 2008." She stayed with Lexa for a moment longer, her attention not wavering until she was certain that was all her girlfriend wanted from her. And it was. Lexa entertained herself throughout the first course with the idea of a young Clarke with braces. She wanted to text Octavia, but she could wait. 

The second course, Lexa started a conversation with the person to her right. She was a doctor, older, almost sixty and she was incredibly smart. Lexa smiled down into her meal when the woman commented that she "only came for the food," and proceeded to talk about the bad habits of a good two thirds of the guests. Then the woman asked her for her tomatoes, and Lexa nudged her plate over. 

She was still nervous, and it was making it hard to eat, so she was glad that the woman plucked away at her salad until it was mostly gone. 

Lexa found it hard to concentrate when Clarke covered Lexa’s knee with her hand, she rubbed her thumb very lightly and it was very distracting. She murmured an apology to the doctor and turned away – she was fascinating, she had some amazing comments about sexism and women and especially women of colour in medicine – but she had just reminded Lexa about the benefits of sunscreen for the fourth time in as many minutes so when Clarke tapped her knee to get her attention, Lexa excused herself.

“Are you alright?” Lexa asked her.

She wasn’t immune to the cold glares her parents – primarily her father – had been sending Clarke’s way, and she hoped that Clarke was alright. She was smiling at her, so that was a good sign.

“What?”

“You’re cute,” Clarke said. “Enjoying your conversation?”

“Very much.”

Clarke nodded. “Do you want my mushrooms?”

They were Clarke’s least favourite part of the salad and Lexa’s most favourite, and pretty much all she had eaten of her own, and so she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

She was picking them out - Clarke had manoeuvred some spinach leaves and she clicked her tongue, "you missed one Lexa, right there how did you miss it?" - "I am getting  _this_  one first, Clarke, don't rush me - when a man with a large voice and a large frame and a careful and formal demeanour interrupts them. 

"Tell me, Clarke, how is your mothers clinic going?"

Clarke looked up from her plate, handed her fork over to Lexa who took it absently. She had already turned back and was caught up in her discussion with the doctor. 

"Oh, really well. It's only been up and running for a few months so she's really busy. But that's to be expected."

"Absolutely. She should settle down, get a nice cushy teaching job like I did."

"I'll suggest it," Clarke said, but she laughed as she said it. It was a joke, frankly. Clarke knew her mother loved nothing better than being in the thick of it all. "How's your wife? And Wells?"

"She's quite well, thank you. However, I'm sure that Wells would love to hear from you," he said, raising his eyebrows. 

Clarke raised hers right back. "Is he complaining? We Skype every week. And  _he_  cancelled on  _me_  last week, thank you very much sir. You can tell him that there is no way his finals are more important than my beautiful, beautiful face and I won’t stand for it."

"My mistake!" he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I should know better than to pick sides by now, what am I thinking?"

Clarke was about to answer - something a little shitty, to be honest, but mostly funny - when Lexa's mother spoke. 

"You know Doctor Jaha?" she asked, looking between them.

“Please, Diana, it’s Thelonius. And yes, Clarke has been a part of my family since she was, how old?”

“What, six? Yeah, I think Wells was five so I must’ve been.”

“Six. Yes, that sounds about right. I remember, you marched right up to our door and demanded to play with Wells.”

“He had a swing set. I wanted to use it.”

Jaha laughed, remembering the small girl in a blue princess dress, hair tied back in pigtails, calmly and emphatically demanding to be let into the house. “Jake was beside himself, he thought he’d lost you in the two minutes he took his eyes off you.”

Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand tight. Nothing else about her changed, still with that pleasant smile, that easy air to her. It was just her tight, whitening fingers around Lexa’s hands that betrayed her. She hadn’t expected to hear about her father tonight.

Jaha realised the mistake he made, and apologised quietly. Clarke shook her head.

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t. It was still raw, still painful. Her hand tightened again on Lexa’s, who shifted her seat closer. Who cared what her parents thought? She did, but not in that moment. One last course, and they could leave. Lexa debated whether they should go early but Clarke relaxed after a moment. “How is teaching?”

* * *

They were saying goodbye when it finally came up.

“Leaving together?” one of the guests asked. He’s old and toadish and he’d been trying to catch Clarke’s eye all night. Whether it was because Abby was her mother or because Clarke looked pretty and he was a lecherous and odious old man, she didn’t know and she didn’t care. She _really_ wanted to hold Lexa’s hand in front of all of them, wrap her arm around her waist maybe and make it really obvious that they were together – she’s taken, we both are, please back off – Lexa wouldn’t be comfortable with that and, thinking about it again, Clarke wouldn’t be comfortable either. It wasn’t the best way to get rid of creepy guys – it actually was sometimes not helpful at all.

Lexa’s mother was quick to come up with an excuse for them. “Well, they came in the same car. A pity you have to leave so early, but the life of a student is always busy, I know.” She actually sounded sincere rather than disapproving and Lexa was almost tempted to stay to please her. But she’d had enough, and she was tired, and afraid that they had worn out conversation pieces. Clarke looked tired as well so no, she’s right, they should go. “I hope you will come by again soon, Lexa,” her mother said, and she took both her hands and held them for a moment. “Thank you for coming.” She paused. “You may bring Clarke again, if you wish. She was pleasant company.”

She didn’t know how much of that was because Abby and Jake Griffin are her parents, and Lexa tried not to let that bother her because her mother was _trying_ and that was a good thing. Clarke had been amazing tonight, she’d been charming and lovely and wonderful and Lexa just wanted to go home and sleep.

There was a part of her that wanted her mother to see that side of Clarke too. The one that wasn’t trying to impress her – or tolerate her, at least - because her girlfriend would like that. The one that _was_ common and _was_ a little rowdy and _was_ rude and was wonderful and funny and caring and gentle and had hands that were constantly speckled in paint or clay and she was normal and imperfect and remarkable and Lexa wanted, someday, for her mother to be able to see that too and respect that. Not just respect that, but admire it maybe. Or like it.

But she saw that Clarke had value, even if it was for who her parents are, and Lexa hoped that it would be a starting point at least.

Clarke had stepped away to say goodbye to Doctor Jaha. Lexa made a note to ask her about him, and about Wells, and it thrilled her a little bit that there was another thing to learn about Clarke.

He held one of her hands in both of his and patted it. Lexa made her way over and Clarke smiled a greeting over her shoulder but didn’t speak, just turned back to Jaha.

“It was so lovely to see you, Clarke, wonderful to catch up, really wonderful. And what a surprise. I didn’t know that you knew the Woods.”

She took Lexa’s hand. “Just their daughters.”

Jaha looked between Clarke and Lexa and his eyes seemed to brighten a little with the connection made. “Ah, yes. How lovely. Now, you said a nice white wine for your mother?”

“You really won’t give up on trying to charm her into joining you at uni, will you?

“Never! Just think about all those bright young minds we could shape together. A new generation of doctors, taught by the great Abby Griffin. She’s a very talented surgeon, Clarke, the university would be incredibly lucky to have her.”

Clarke shook her head but she was smiling and she nodded. “I don’t know that she’s ready to settle down yet. But a white, yeah. Red if you’re having dinner together, white if it’s a gift.”

“Thank you, Clarke.”

“Anytime. Are you going to the Christmas party?”

“Of course!”

“Then I’ll see you there.”

* * *

In the car home, Lexa sighed very heavily.

“Long night,” Clarke commented, and she’s very careful about her driving. More than she usually was, but Lexa seemed a little frayed and she didn’t say anything but her eyes were focused more on Clarke’s hands than on what Clarke had been saying, and it wasn’t a comment on Clarke’s driving so much as it was a comment on the fact that Lexa was finding it really, really hard to relax.

She replayed every moment of the night that she had been involved in, and wondering what her parents had seen, and what her parents had thought, what her fathers hard, harsh glances were going to lead to in the future, what her mothers surprising lack of hate would mean, and it was hard to get her brain to stop or even to settle on one thought or one moment to think about it in depth, and the frantic nature of it and the reluctance to actually sort anything out was unpleasant and she was just so _tired_.

She let Clarke help her inside and she very carefully put the desserts in the fridge. They would keep well enough and she was exhausted. Clarke locked the door, turned off all the lights except the one in her bedroom. She helped Lexa take off her necklace before she disappeared into the bathroom. Lexa dropped her clothes onto the desk chair. She could fold them in the morning, now she just wanted to sleep. Clarke shuffled around a while longer – she had to hang up her dress – but then they were both laying there and Lexa leaned her head on Clarke’s shoulder.

“Clarke?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you for going with me.”

“Sure.”

“Clarke?”

“Mhm.”

“How long did you have braces for?”

**Author's Note:**

> send me more prompts for this i will get around to them - unicyclehippo on tumblr as well


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